


Cat and Moose

by RosaleenBan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2k words of porn, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Sam, Cage Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Leviathans, M/M, Season/Series 07, Top Gabriel, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaleenBan/pseuds/RosaleenBan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set loosely in Season 7, after Sam gets his memories of the cage back, Gabriel shows up and saves the day. Multiple times. Oh, and he likes to hang around as a cat.</p><p>Sabriel fluff, with a bit of plot, a few Leviathans, and some fix-it elements, because apparently I can't help myself in this genre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Sam saw the cat, he ignored it. They were in Sleepy Hollow, CT, of all places, and Dean had thought it would be funny to stay at a motel themed with the headless horseman. It seemed just about right that they would have a black cat or two on the premise, just for ambiance.

The fact that the next day he didn’t have any visions of the cage was slightly eclipsed in his attention span by the fact that the ghost they were salting and burning was, in fact, headless.

 

…

 

The second time Sam saw the cat, he thought it was a hallucination.

Of course, by then, he thought everything was a hallucination. It had been over a month since Sleepy Hollow, and he was now staying in Bobby’s panic room almost full time. His memories were seeping into reality at an alarming rate, and both Bobby and Dean were convinced that he was a short step away from the edge of sanity. Sam, for what it was worth, thought he had jumped off that cliff weeks ago, but even if he was rational enough to express those thoughts, he wouldn’t. He and Dean were experts at avoiding truths the other didn’t need to hear.

As hallucinations went, this one was pretty benign, so he concentrated on it, taking some solace in a small respite from Lucifer and Michael and fire and blood.

The cat was large and black, just as it had been in Connecticut, with no markings or scars to distinguish it. From its muscular physique, Sam imagined it would probably be feral if it was real, but it was friendly enough this way. It actually jumped up onto his cot and playfully batted at his hair before curling up next to him.

Sam was surprised to be hallucinating warmth without burning, and then surprised that any hallucinations surprised him anymore. He spent a long time listening to it purr before falling asleep himself. It was the first time he had slept soundly in just over two weeks.

 

…

 

The first thing Sam realized when he woke up the next morning was that Dean did not play nursemaid very well. His brother was down in the panic room with a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, just starting at him awkwardly.

“Hey,” he said slowly. “Everything ok?”

“You were asleep,” Dean said bluntly.

“Yeah,” Sam said as he sat up, his brain still hazy. He reached for the coffee cup and took a sip. “Dude, this is like ice. How long have you been down here?”

Dean looked at his watch. “About an hour. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Sam frowned at the eggs.

“You were _asleep_ , Sammy,” Dean repeated. “Not flailing or calling out or crying or anything – just asleep. Like I haven’t seen you do since Cas – ”

Sam blinked at Dean. “Since I lost the wall between me and my memories,” he supplied thoughtfully.

He – well, he hadn’t even noticed the relief.  The last months of hallucinations, of suicidal thoughts, of _torture_ – they seemed removed from his reality. Like they had happened a decade ago, or to someone else entirely.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sam? Are you feeling ok?”

“Actually, yeah. Yeah, I am,” Sam said. “I – uh, I feel great. Dean, I almost feel like I’ve never been to Hell.”

“Like the wall’s back up?” Dean asked, his expression somewhere between hopeful and incredulous.

“No, more like everything’s been dulled. I still remember the cage, but only vaguely. Like I was outside of it the entire time. Like it’s not affecting me anymore.”

“Seriously? You just wake up cured? Come on, Sam, have you paid attention to our lives at all for the past five years? That doesn’t happen.”

“Except maybe it did?” Sam asked hopefully, knowing exactly how ludicrous it sounded. He looked at the cold scrambled eggs on the table next to his cot. “I’m starving. Maybe we can just accept it for now and see what happens?”

“Because that always works out perfectly for us.” Dean sighed.

“Come on, at least as long as it takes to get up to the kitchen and make something edible for breakfast?”

Dean frowned. “Yeah, ok. But just upstairs. You may think you’re fine, but I don’t think we’re at the point where we can trust your opinion on your mental state.”

Sam nodded curtly. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

He followed Dean upstairs and into the kitchen, where he found eggs, ham, cheese, and bread. “When was the last time I had a real meal?” he asked as he made a pair of omelets and toast. “I feel like it’s been weeks.”

“It has been. Really, you don’t remember?” Dean asked from the table, where he was watching.

“Not really,” he confessed. “Everything about the last few months is pretty hazy.”

“Remember anything weird from last night?”

“Not a thing,” Sam confessed.

“And all of this doesn’t seem weird to you?”

“Of course it seems weird to me,” Sam said. “I just kinda want to enjoy it though, you know? Before it all comes crashing down on us again.”

That actually got a short laugh out of Dean. “Yeah, Sammy, me too. I just hope it doesn’t come crashing down too soon.”

Sam hummed his agreement, satisfied to give the conversation a rest.

 

…

 

 Even after a full day without visions, Sam slept in the panic room. Dean insisted, and Bobby had backed him up when he called in from the case he took two states over. Bobby would be home sometime the next day, and he wanted to talk to Sam himself before trusting him asleep and unsecured in the house.

Honestly, Sam didn’t blame them. The more he thought about it, the more this seemingly miraculous recovery looked like a trick, or a last ditch effort of his mind to hold onto his sanity before he lost it forever. He had heard an explanation once of how a swamp erupts into full bloom just before it dies, using the nutrition from its dead roots to support one last burst of color. Most people swore it proved the swamp was healthy, but experts knew that a few weeks later everything in the area would be dead. What if his brain was reacting the same way?

Yeah, he was getting a little too allegorical. That alone was enough to make him worry.

He fell asleep comfortably enough, though. And just before he fell completely, in that space where he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or awake, he could have sworn he felt a small warm body pressed against his stomach, purring.

 

…

 

Despite all of their worrying, Sam didn’t have another hallucination for over two weeks. Dean had just given into his pleas and was allowing him back on the road for a case, and Bobby had given him permission to use the second guest room upstairs instead of sleeping in the panic room every night. Things were almost normal.

Except Sam was still dreaming of that black cat. As things go, it wasn’t a big deal – not even weird enough to tell Dean (though probably weird enough for Dean to make a big deal about it if he did). But still – cats? He wasn’t even a cat person. His subconscious should at least be sending him dogs or something.

Sam, of course knew that there was one constant in the Winchesters life, and that was that _things are never easy._ So when he had the time to lie awake in bed thinking about cats and dreams, he should have known that the other shoe is about to drop.

He was only vaguely surprised to look up and see Lucifer standing in the corner of his room, wearing Nick as a tattered vessel. He was sure that he was supposed to be afraid, but at that moment, with his memories of the cage still so far removed, he was just annoyed. He was supposed to cross the state line for a short hunting trip in Iowa tomorrow, and now his brother was going to want him back in the panic room instead.

_Ugh._

 “Can’t this wait?” he whined, rolling his eyes at the image.

“Sam, you should know better than that,” Lucifer said smoothly, almost mournfully. “You knew I’d be back.”

And yeah, he probably did, but he wasn’t exactly about to dwell on it. He gave Lucifer what Dean generally called his bitchface.

“My brother may be resourceful, but even dear Michael wasn’t strong enough to completely trap me in that cage. My demons heard me from in there, didn’t they? And now you do, too.”

Sam frowned – that was a question. Even if his memories were dulled, could he hear the whispers of the devil from Hell? “Which brother? Because Cas –”

“Is apparently out of the picture,” Lucifer said. “I’ve never really mourned for my younger brothers, but him? He was special, wasn’t he?”

“Which brother then?” Sam asked, keeping to the original subject. Even after everything Castiel had done, he was still one of them – part of Team Free Will, for all the wrong choices he had made as a result – and Sam wasn’t about to listen to anything Lucifer had to say about him.

“Oh, you don’t know do you? That’s almost sweet, you have a secret admirer,” Lucifer said.

Sam closed his eyes and turned around on the bed, leaving the devil at his back. He should have known he wouldn’t get any straight answers from him.

“Sam, Sam, Sam, really? I’m not that easy to get rid of you know,” Lucifer said, his voice now from the opposite side of the room it had originally been on, in front of Sam again. “Don’t you remember our time in the cage? When Michael took your little brother to play, and it was just you and me? We were so close then, weren’t we?”

Sam tried to ignore him, prayed for him to go away, though he rationally knew no one up there would bother to listen.

“I miss you, you know. Big brother’s so boring, and he keeps little Adam like a toy on a shelf. We had such fun together when you were here. It looks like maybe you need a reminder, though. All those memories seem so far away in your head.”

There was a dip on the bed in front of him, and a low hiss. Sam opened his eyes to see that same black cat poised protectively in front of him as though he were about to pounce at Lucifer.

“And there’s my little brother now. Don’t you recognize him?”

The cat hissed again and swatted at Lucifer’s image. Miraculously, the hallucination – vision? memory? – flickered when he did so.

“Hmmm, you’re stronger now, aren’t you brother? Still hiding in shadows, though, just like you always did,” Lucifer said, his voice wavering though he tried to mask it with bravado. “What a cute form you’ve taken on there, Gabriel.”

The cat hissed again, and Lucifer disappeared.

Sam sat up in bed, pushing himself up against the headboard and stared at the cat. It turned around and sat down calmly, staring back.

“Gabriel?” Sam asked slowly.

The cat twitched its tail quickly, and suddenly the trickster was sitting on his bed, wearing the same old vessel, with the same cocky grin and expressive eyebrows Sam remembered from before the averted apocalypse. Even the green jacket was the same.

“But you – Lucifer killed you.”

“Castiel isn’t the only resurrected angel flying around,” Gabriel said. “He’s just the only one dumb enough to think Dad wanted him to step up as head of the family business.”

“When?” Sam asked.

“Same time as Cassie, near as I can tell,” Gabriel told him.

“So you’ve been back for two years, and you didn’t think to drop in and let us know?”

“Why would I, what with you out of the picture and Dean-o in retirement?” Gabriel asked as if he were an idiot. He brought up his hand and a lollipop appeared. “Plus, I really don’t have to answer to anyone, remember? I’m actually a lot happier _not_ telling anyone I’m back.”

“Then why are you here?” Sam asked.

“Apparently, to save your ass from yourself,” Gabriel said. “And maybe the devil, but you know he can’t really do much more than whisper at you from down in that cage. All his power’s coming from your head. Also? A thank you would be nice.”

 “No, I mean, why did you come here, to Sioux Falls, to have anything to do with me?” Sam clarified, pointedly _not_ thanking the trickster. Not while he still didn’t know what was going on.

He swore he saw Gabriel start to pout around his lollipop before he took it out of his mouth to speak in an over-the-top melancholy tone. “It’s true what they say – thank yous have become a lost art.”

Sam stared at Gabriel, willing a real answer from the archangel.

“Really, why do I do anything kiddo? I heard a rumor that you had sprung your soul from the cage, and I was curious. Didn’t really like you much without a soul when I checked in then, so I thought I’d come see the improvement. Didn’t realize you were out of your mind until I showed up, and I helped out and fixed up that head of yours. I guess I was bored.”

“Bored, really? You played around in my head because you were bored? That’s what you’re going with here?”

Gabriel smirked. “It’s what _we’re_ going with, Sammy. Ask me again some other time.”

The archangel snapped his fingers, and Sam found himself alone in his room.

 

…

 

Dean did not take the news that their favorite archangel was back in town very well.

For once, Sam told him everything right away – first thing in the morning – and now he was in the middle of very loudly reminding Sam why he avoided these conversations.

“Really, man? Gabriel? The _Trickster?_ ” Dean was ranting. “Do you actually trust this guy?”

“Of course I don’t trust him,” Sam sighed, even though he really did, somehow. Or at least he wanted to, like he had when Gabriel had first shown up at the Elysian Fields Hotel. And wasn’t that just weird in and of itself?

“But you gave him permission to rattle around in your head? That seemed like a good idea to you?’

“Permission? Who said anything about permission?” Sam asked. And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Much as he wanted to believe Gabriel was there for something good, he couldn’t get over the violation of having his brain messed – _again_ – with without permission.

“So he just went in there on his own?” Dean asked. “That’s even better.”

Fortunately, Bobby was there. “Now come off it, Dean,” he interrupted, save Sam from having to. “You saw the mess this boy was three weeks ago. He didn’t know what was real from fantasy. Seems to me the Trickster actually did us a favor.”

“Do I need to remind you that this Trickster is the guy who killed me a few hundred times just to prove a point?”

“He was also the guy who died trying to face Lucifer at the Elysian Fields Hotel,” Sam pointed out. “And he was brought back the same time Cas was.”

“Cause Cas coming back was such a good thing for everyone involved,” Dean said bitterly. Sam opened his mouth to protest, but bit his tongue instead. Dean had been hit the hardest by Cas’s god complex and the resulting Leviathans, and Sam knew there was nothing he could say to lessen that.

“You know, I’m not a vegetable right now because of Gabriel,” Sam said instead. “That’s got to mean something.” And if Sam was still unsure of that, well, he didn’t need Dean upset about that, too, on top of everything else.

Dean cradled his head in his hand, thinking. Finally, he sighed. “Yeah, it does,” he conceded. “I really wish we knew that he didn’t have an ulterior motive, though.”

Sam laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, I know. It’s my head he’s apparently using as his playground. Again.”

“Now if we’re all in agreement on our feelings, what are we going to actually do about this?” Bobby asked.

“What is there to do?” Sam countered. “We have enough on our plates with the Leviathans out there. I think as long as we’re dealing with them, we can put an errant archangel who doesn’t seem to be hurting anyone on the back burner.”

“I agree,” Dean said. “We still need to find a way to kill these things, or send them back where they belong.”

“Back to research?” Sam asked.

“Looks like,” Bobby said, turning to the pile of books on his desk.

Sam nodded grabbed one that looked promising, sat on the couch and opened to a chapter at random. He had trouble concentrating on any of cramped hand-written words, though. Instead his thoughts kept going to the black cat archangel that had been with him in his dreams or his room almost every night since his recovery, and the questions that would have to go unanswered for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Although Sam didn’t see the black cat again for the next week, he also didn’t have any hallucinations or nightmares. He didn’t know what that meant – if he was fine and Gabriel was leaving him alone, or if Gabriel was just a little more invisible around them. Either way, he was both grateful not to have Lucifer in his head, waking or sleeping, and disturbed by the idea that everything going on in his mind may not really be his own.

The streak lasted even when he and Dean left Sioux Falls for a long-overdue hunt in New York State. The last time he had been in the Impala this long, he had almost taken a knife to the upholstery, convinced that the seats were branded with the devil’s runes. Dean had had to literally tie his hands behind his back and take away all of his knives and tools in order to get him home safely. After that, he had gone straight into the panic room, and didn’t come out again until Gabriel the cat came between him and his visions.

Now he was comfortably in the passenger’s seat again, and even though Dean kept throwing suspicious looks his way, he felt perfectly fine. Good, even. He couldn’t even get annoyed at Dean for being so protective of his baby – he’d actually be a bit worried if he _wasn’t_ , after all.

“So, get this,” he said, holding out the paper he had been reading, even though he knew Dean couldn’t read the headlines. “This hunter, Garth, has been in this town for three weeks, and there have been at least 6 disappearances in that time. All of them members of the community – teachers, police officers, councilmen, your general fine-upstanding-citizen type.  But not one of them has been mentioned in the town’s only local paper.”

“So, what do you think? Stepford? The town doesn’t want to air their dirty laundry?”

“I’m thinking suppression,” Sam said. “That whatever is doing it is tied to the editorial board.”

“So we get into town, meet up with this Garth guy, and hit up the local paper? That’s a new one – what’s our cover going to be?”

“Guess we can’t be journalists,” Sam said ruefully. “Let me do some research on the editors when we get to town; maybe I can figure something out.”

“Sounds good, Sammy,” Dean said. “We should be there in about two hours.” Sam looked over and was surprised to see his brother smiling. Dean turned up the music and started drumming to the beat of _Fool in the Rain_.

He leaned back in his seat and looked around the Impala, enjoying the fact that he was _there_ , with his brother, on a hunt.

Behind them, on the back seat, he saw a folded camel raincoat. He hadn’t noticed Dean packing it in this morning, but it seemed fitting. Castiel was the only thing missing from this trip.

 

…

 

Garth turned out to be one of the more surprising hunters Bobby had ever introduced them to. Surprising mostly because he was still alive, in Sam’s opinion. It wasn’t his awkward appearance or his gangly walk that made him stand out – hunters were not really known for their looks. It was his apparently complete lack of tact or timing.

And yet somehow he managed. He was helpful with research, if not the actual interviewing part of their reconnaissance. Within two days of meeting up, they had discovered that about a third of the editorial and journalist staff at the paper was replaced by shifters. They didn’t know where the missing people were yet, but it wasn’t likely that a whole nest of shifters wouldn’t be involved in anything strange going on in a small town.

“Do shifters even have nests? When did shifters start having nests? Aren’t they supposed to be solitary freaks?” Dean asked as the three of them drove to the mansion the chief editor had recently purchased. They figured that if a group was working together, they would probably all be there.

“Probably about the same time Samuel and I started hunting their Alpha,” Sam ventured.

“Dammit, Sam, how long are we going to be paying for you – you without a soul – and that dick hunting together?”

“I wasn’t exactly in my right mind back then, Dean,” Sam reminded him, keeping his voice steady. It seemed as though Dean was looking for a fight more often than not the last couple of days, and he was trying not to rise to the bait.

“Bobby warned me of this,” Garth said from the back seat. “That you two bicker. He said I should probably stay quiet and stay out of it.”

“Shut up, Garth,” Dean snapped. Then he muttered, “I hate shifters.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not going in there to make friends,” Sam said.

“What’s the plan?” Garth asked.

“Don’t die,” Dean snarled.

“Thanks,” Garth said pleasantly. “I’ll go with that.”

“Guys, seriously, there are probably a dozen shifters in there,” Sam said. “Are you sure we shouldn’t be doing this without backup?”

“Not much backup to be spared with the leviathans out there, Sammy,” Dean reminded him. “We’re on our own.”

“This is it,” Sam said. “Pull over.”

Dean parked in front of a rather ostentatious mansion, complete with a wrought-iron gate in front of a fountain and large yard. “This doesn’t remind me of any shifters I’ve ever seen,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, none of it does,” Sam agreed.

The three hunters got out of the Impala, each armed with a rifle and a pistol with silver bullets, as well as silver knives. Watching Garth, Sam swore the guy was going to trip over his feet just getting out of the car with a gun in each hand, but somehow he managed the challenge of standing up.

“How do we get past the gates?” Dean asked.

“Side entrance in the outer wall,” Sam told him, pointing them in the right direction. “Should have a regular door, with a regular lock.”

“Alarm systems?” Dean asked.

“Taken care of,” Garth said. He had gone out earlier that day to do some ‘routine maintenance’ with the security company.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Dean asked, leading the way to the side entrance.

Sam tucked his gun into his jeans and hoisted his rifle before following his brother. He had no illusions about this hunt – this was going to be rough. One shifter was generally a handful; a nest could be suicide. But there was really no choice – surprise was their best weapon, and if they tried to pick them off one at a time, there was too great a chance that they would just start switching identities until they were impossible to find again.

Still, he didn’t feel good about it as Dean broke them into the place.

Two shifters were standing outside the mansion, watching the gate with their backs to the side door. Without a word, Sam and Dean both gave their rifles to Garth and took out their knives. They slit both the shifters’ necks from behind before they could raise an alarm.

They took back their rifles and headed toward the front door, which Sam found was unlocked. He pushed it open gently, thankful that this wasn’t the kind of place to have squeaky hinges.

Once open, he found himself face to face with Chet, the Leviathan who had been on their tail almost since they lost Cas.

“Sam, Dean, welcome,” Chet smiled at them. “And your little friend. The boss is going to be so happy to see you.”

“You can tell Dick where to stuff it,” Dean sneered,

Chet smiled. “You can tell him yourself. He’s on his way now. We knew you’d show up here if we provided the right bait. You Winchesters are predictable.”

 _Fuck_ , Sam thought. Six shifters stepped into the room behind Chet. Two-to-one, plus the Leviathan, but they all seemed distracted. If they were quick, they could probably get at least one shot into each before they could react. _God help us, or angels, if there are any of you left on our side,_ Sam prayed fiercely.

Then, before Dean could snark back at Chet, he opened fire. One shifter dropped before Dean or Garth realized his gambit, but they were both experienced hunters with quick minds. Lined up like they were at a point blank range, it took less than a minute for the three of them to take down the shifters. None of them had the chance to react to the slaughter.

A few bullets hit Chet himself, but he just stood there grimly, watching the scene as his wounds healed at a miraculous pace. Sam and Dean didn’t even bother trying to hit him, but it took Garth a minute to realize he was wasting silver bullets.

“Cute,” he said when the firing ceased. “I was planning on having those for dinner, but fortunately for me, hunter tastes so much sweeter than shifter.”

“I thought your boss wanted to see us,” Sam said evenly, weighing their options for escape. “Wouldn’t he be upset if we wound up digested first?”

“You two, yes, but that one?” Chet took another step directly toward Garth. “I think I’ll take him now as a reward.”

The familiar sound of wings rushed behind Sam, making everyone jump in surprise. “Cas?” Dean asked as he pivoted to look. Even with all of this, Sam saw the excitement in his eyes before his face fell in disappointment.

“Afraid not,” Gabriel said, and Sam heard real regret in his voice. “But I hope I make a good condolence prize.”

“Angel?” Chet asked. “What are you doing here? We’ve already devoured your brother – want to join him?”

“Archangel. And you’re going to pay for that,” Gabriel said, moving in front of the hunters. In one hand, he held a large sword. It glowed white, and Sam could feel his head start to hurt when he looked directly at it. An archangel’s sword, Sam realized.

As soon as he was within reach, Gabriel raised the sword in the quickest motion Sam had ever seen. It hit true, slicing straight through the leviathan’s torso.

Chet laughed, and the cut healed as they watched. “Little arrogant angels – I remember the world before you were a thought in God’s mind. Do you really think your little toys are going to work on us?”

Gabriel looked genuinely shocked for a moment before he smoothed his face into a smirk. “Can you blame a guy for trying?”

Chet sneered. “I wonder what angels taste like.”

“You wanna taste of me, honey? I doubt you could handle the spice,” Gabriel said.

“Get diabetes from the sugar, more like,” Sam heard Dean mutter, but everyone ignored him.

Gabriel slashed again with his sword, and this time the Leviathan’s head came clean off, his body crumpling to the ground as it rolled away. Even Gabriel’s eyebrows raised in surprise when the Leviathan didn’t get up again.

Garth was the first to recover from the shock. “Wow, dude, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, still somewhat in shock. “Gabriel, where – what were you doing here?”

“What do you think, kiddo? You prayed for help, I heard, I came. You got _incredibly_ lucky,” Gabriel told him, drawing out the syllables of ‘incredibly.’ “You guys might want to get that head in a bag or something. He’s not dead, and the two will reattach if you give them time.”

“On it,” Garth said. Sam and Dean both cringed as he took off his flannel and wrapped the head in it. Black ooze bled through it and dripped to the ground as they watched.

“Or something,” Dean said, shaking his head. “We should get that to Bobby’s. Both parts, so we can study them.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed. He turned to ask Gabriel for a lift (and maybe a private conversation to follow), but the archangel was already gone. “Looks like we’re driving it.”

“Garth, can you head back to Sioux Falls, too? Maybe keep these things in separate cars?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Garth said.

“Good,” Dean said. “We need to head out tonight. If Dick’s on his way here, I want to get as many miles between us and him as possible before he gets here. Take the guns; Sammy and I will get his body into the trunk then drop you off at your car.”

“Ok, one question though,” Garth said. “I thought all the archangels were dealt with or dead. Who was that?”

Sam sighed. “It’s a long story. We’ll catch you up over breakfast tomorrow.”

 

…

 

Late as it was, they were only able to drive as far as central Pennsylvania before they had to stop for the night. Fortunately, Dean was tired enough to want to postpone all Trickster-related conversations until morning. Sam got to doze on the ride instead, so he wasn’t as dead tired as Garth and Dean when they checked in.

Once he was sure Dean was asleep in their room, he slipped out to the motel parking lot.

Leaning on the Impala, he took a deep breath. “Gabriel?” he called – praying out loud, really. “I’m pretty sure you can hear me.”

Again, there was a rush of wings, and the archangel appeared. This time he was relaxed, with a candy bar in his hand instead of a sword.

“Of course I can hear you when you shout like that, Sammich. What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything,” Sam said, more than a little insulted by Gabriel’s implication.

“Really? You only usually want to talk to me when you need something.”

“I just want to talk,” Sam said. “I want to understand what’s going on here.”

Gabriel tilted his head and stared at him for a moment, reminding him very much of Cas. He wondered if that was a deliberate mimicry of angelic gestures, or if Gabriel really was more like his brethren than he liked to think.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But somewhere more comfortable.”

Sam nodded, and Gabriel snapped them into a small living room with an armchair and a couple of plush red couches. Sam was pretty sure the place wasn’t real, like the TV show sets Gabriel had conjured, and Sam tried not to think too hard about that. Gabriel took the armchair, so Sam stretched out on an extra-long couch, pleased that the Trickster had accommodated his size.  

“So, Sammy, what do you want to talk about?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s Sam. And all of this,” Sam said. “You pretty much cure me of my time in the pit, but don’t let us know that you’re alive.  You pose as a cat, and invade my dreams. You block Lucifer from whispering in my head, but leave without any explanation. And now tonight, you come out of nowhere, save us all, and disappear. Don’t you think that’s kinda weird? Even for a pagan god? Or an angel? Archangel, I mean.”

“I told you what happened tonight: you prayed for help, I came,” Gabriel said, clearly pronouncing every syllable like he wasn’t sure if Sam would understand them. He took a bite of his candy bar and chewed slowly. Sam just stared and waited patiently for further explanation.  “Look, I don’t know why any of the rest of it even matters. There was a problem, I fixed it. End of story.”

“It matters because you were in my head doing things without my permission,” Sam told him. “What did you do to me, to stop it I mean? Cas couldn’t do anything like that”

Gabriel’s face softened as Sam talked. “Last I checked, my baby bro has been neither an archangel nor a pagan god. Aspiring capital-G God, maybe, but he didn’t exactly pick up any tools of the trade during that train wreck.”

Sam snorted. The archangel had a point. “Ok, but what did you do exactly? I go from mentally incapacitated to fine within 12 hours, I think I should know how. Death couldn’t even do that; what if whatever you did fails?”

“It won’t,” Gabriel said simply. After a moment of silence he continued, “Death deals with big picture stuff, with absolutes. Angels are mostly the same way – they see rules and order and grand design, but the subtleties of human psychology tend to evade them.”

“Except for you?” Sam supplied when he paused.

“Ding, ding, ding!” Gabriel crowed. “Exactly right, kiddo. I’ve been down here among you humans for almost two millennia now; I know a thing or two about human trauma and how it works on memories – I caused enough of it.”

“Which reminds me, why am I trusting you right now?” Sam cut in. “I remember a lot of that suffering having to do with Dean’s deaths.”

“Come on, that was years ago – ages, for you humans, right? I’m a changed angel.” Gabriel winked widely, but he actually seemed sincere enough.

“Yeah, right,” Sam said. Somehow he couldn’t put much conviction behind the words though; they had all changed in two and a half years, and Gabriel did give his life to try to prevent the apocalypse once. “So what did you do to me?”

 “Basically, I changed the way your brain remembers the cage. I couldn’t get rid of them completely, not unless I wanted to break that pretty head of yours, but I faded them. It’s what your brain naturally does with time, but I just did it to the extreme. Right now, your brain thinks everything in the cage happened about a century or two ago, instead of less than a year. And I skipped all the nasty psychosis that should come with that kind of trauma.”

“Oh,” Sam said, and he knew he should be grateful but, “Don’t you need permission for that kind of thing? Do you just go into people’s minds and change them on a whim?”

Gabriel sighed and looked down. “No, angels don’t need it, but I already had consent anyway,” he said softly. “I was only supposed to be there to check in on you – see how the Winchesters were doing post-world saving. In and out, and you’d never know I was there. Once I showed up, though, Lucifer sensed me, and he whispered to you about me. It must have crept into your hallucinations, because the next thing I knew you were praying to me for help." He paused, biting his lip. "I think your exact words were ‘anything to make it stop.’ I couldn’t exactly ignore you – even I’m not that callous,” he finished weakly. “You don’t remember?”

 Sam frowned, because he thought that was familiar. He had been seeing images of dead friends and family that night: of Ellen and Jo, and his dad and Jess and even Anna. And at some point they had morphed into images of the mutilated corpses of people who should be alive: Dean and Bobby and Jodie. And then Gabriel had shown up with Lucifer, the two of them circling each other like dogs about to fight.  Sam had cried out to Gabriel in a panic, had started to pray madly, unsure of whether or not his death was real, or if there was anything he could do to stop the visions.

“I do,” he said softly. “I mean, I didn’t, which was probably your doing anyway, but now I do.”

“There you go, then, Samsquatch,” Gabriel said, a smirk back on his lips. “Everything’s above board.”

“Is it permanent?” Sam asked.

“Should be, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you in case something happened again. Even in the cage, big bro’s pretty powerful, and he seems to think you’re still one of his toys. Gotta make sure he gets it through his head that he’s not.” Sam was shocked to hear a possessive – or was that protective? – tone in Gabriel’s voice. “I think I’ve got him blocked for a while though.”

“So tonight was just what you said?” Sam asked. “You heard me again and you came.”

Gabriel nodded.

It was a lot for Sam to take in. After a long moment of silence, he said, “Thanks, Gabriel. You really saved me there. And for tonight, too.”

Gabriel smiled – a genuine one, not a smirk. “Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

He snapped, and a coffee table and a couple of mugs appeared. Sam reached for the one closest to him and smelled the rich hot chocolate. He couldn’t help but smile – no matter how confusing, Gabriel was predictable with his sweets.

“You know, I came up to the plate a little late in the apocalypse game,” Gabriel said slowly. “But I figured out why I was there – cause I like this place, its messy humans, and free will. Seems to me like the Leviathans are just as big a threat to my lifestyle, if not more so.”

“Whatever their end game is, it’s not good,” Sam agreed. He sipped his hot chocolate experimentally, and was delighted by the taste: rich and creamy, with a hint of caramel.

It must have shown on his face, because Gabriel smiled before going on. “Just so you know, I’m on your side in this. As long as the Leviathans are around, you can count on me if you get in a jam against them.”

Sam looked up and saw a hint of real warmth and sincerity in Gabriel’s face. “Thanks,” he said.

“I’m not doing it for you,” Gabe said, his tone light and teasing.

“Well, thanks, anyway,” Sam told him, starting to get comfortable enough to be a bit playful with the Trickster.

Gabriel looked at Sam for a long moment, an odd look on his face.

“Listen,” he said at last. “I’m – I know we’ve had some issues, but there’s something about you I can’t get out of my head, Winchester.”

Sam’s eyebrows flew up in surprise.

“I –ah, I know I’m gonna have to earn it, but I hope you can learn to trust me,” Gabriel continued. Then, to Sam’s utter shock, he leaned over and kissed Sam, full on the lips.

Sam’s head reeled, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to react to that. Eventually, he managed, “Uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s all I can ask for, Sammy”

Sam opened his mouth to protest the nickname again, but a yawn came out instead.

“Humans,” Gabriel smirked, suddenly slipping into that Trickster persona again. “Always with the sleep – every single night! Doesn’t it get old? Let’s get you to your bed.”

Another snap, and Sam was back in his motel room. Dean was snoring, and the alarm clock was shining red with an obnoxiously late (or early, depending on your perspective) time. Next to the clock was the mug with the rest of his hot chocolate, cooled just enough to sip quickly but still be delicious.

Sam smiled and downed the last of it before going to bed. It was just as good cool.

And it was probably just the stress of the job that day, but when he got to sleep a few minutes later, he dreamt about a black cat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Gabriel gets the boys out of a bad spot, Sam makes up his mind about what he wants. He just has to convince Gabriel he's serious.

Sam believed Gabriel, but he didn’t pray to him after the kiss. In fact, in the coming weeks, he did everything he could to forget Gabriel was back at all.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want the archangel’s help – quite the opposite, in fact. He was attracted to the angel physically, of course, but he was intrigued by him, too. Gabriel painted himself as a capricious demigod, casually cruel and endlessly hedonistic. But he was an angel as well, and he had gone out of his way to help Sam and his brother on several occasions now. There was more to him than met the eye, and Sam was dying to learn what he hid.

But he had learned far too well what being in a relationship was like for him: Pain, betrayal, and, eventually, dead lovers. He didn’t need to mix Gabriel up in that.

He did see the black cat every now and again, but he would pretend he hadn’t, and then pretend he didn’t notice any help he gave. Like having the right books handy on the right monsters, or that time he thought he was going to fall asleep at the wheel, when Dean was already passed out in the passenger seat, and suddenly he had more than enough energy to get them to the next motel.

Besides, they had figured out the Borax solution, and they really didn’t _need_ the help of an angel, though Dean would probably say differently if asked. But then again, Dean was far too emotionally constipated about his feelings about the Leviathans taking Cas to say much of anything on the subject.

But when they were escaping the Dick Roman in an unmarked van, Sam didn’t have a choice. 

“Sonofabitch,” Dean swore at Bobby, tires screeching as they turned the corner, hopefully out of sight of the Leviathans. “Thank God you got in. They almost took your freaking head off.”

“Hey Bobby, your hat,” Sam said, handing the frayed blue cap that had fallen onto his lap, not recognizing the bullet hole in it until Bobby didn’t answer.

“Bobby?” he asked, voice shaking. He turned back and saw blood gushing down the older man’s face. “Bobby!”

He turned to Dean. “We need to get him to a hospital! NOW!”

Dean slammed on the accelerator. Heedless of the danger, Sam unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed into the back with Bobby. He almost couldn’t fit his shoulders between the seats, and he swore when he had to figure out how to pull his legs back without kicking Dean and getting them into an accident. He sat down awkwardly and pulled Bobby’s head into his lap.

“Dammit, Bobby,” he swore, gritting his teeth and trying not to lose it. He pulled his flannel off and pressed it to Bobby’s forehead to stop the blood. Not that that would do much if there was any damage to his brain, Sam realized worriedly.

“Gabriel,” Sam said, almost without realizing it. “Gabe, we could really use another favor now. Please?”

“Your wish is my command,” Gabriel said, suddenly appearing in the passenger seat Sam had vacated. “Well, not really, but it sounded good, just this one.”

“Jesus,” Dean swore, swerving the car dangerously close to the parked cars he was flying by. “No popping in like that! Don’t you angels have any brains at all?”

“Hey, be nice to the guy about to save your friend’s life,” Gabriel chided.

“Now would be nice,” Sam interjected pointedly. “Please?”

Gabriel reached back and put his hand over Sam’s. Sam felt it as the archangel’s grace flowed down through his hand and into Bobby, healing him in just a moment.

Sam removed his shirt and saw that although Bobby’s eyes were still closed, his head was clean, and the wound was gone. He took a deep breath. “Is he going to be ok?”

“His body is in shock,” Gabriel told them, “but he’ll be fine. Give him a couple hours of sleep, and he’ll be back to the paranoid, cantankerous old hunter you know and love.”

“Thanks,” Dean said before Sam could collect himself. He slowed the car and made an illegal U-turn, probably because it was the easiest way to get back to the motel.

“Didn’t do it for you,” Gabriel told him.

“Thank you, Gabe,” Sam echoed his brother, relaxing. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime, Samarino,” Gabriel told him, flashing him a bright white smile. “All you’ve gotta do is ask.”

Sam could almost feel the weight of Dean’s confused glare, even though he couldn’t see it. He hadn’t told Dean about the kiss Gabriel had given him, or the conversation it had been a part of, so of course he was confused.

Sam ignored it and concentrated on Bobby for the drive back to the motel. Though he was still asleep, he was already showing signs of recovery, like easy breathing and pupils moving normally under his eyelids.

Thankfully, their door went directly outside in this motel. When Dean parked, Sam was able to lift Bobby bodily out of the van as Dean got the door, then carry him in and onto the nearest bed.

“I _could_ help with that you, know,” Gabriel said, eying as Sam’s muscles strained under Bobby’s weight.

Sam gave a bashful smile. He knew the archangel could have brought them all in with a snap, but it never occurred to him to _ask_ for something he could clearly do himself.

Gabriel must have seen that written on his face – or maybe heard it from his thoughts – because he just rolled his eyes and muttered, “Winchesters.”

Once they had gotten Bobby in bed, the Winchesters sat, automatically readying themselves for a vigil, waiting for their mentor to wake up. Dean sat in the dingy wooden chair by the small breakfast table, and Sam sat on the edge of the empty bed, where he had a good view of Bobby.

Gabriel watched them. When Sam looked up at him, he looked like he was ready to peace out.

“It, ah, would be good if you stayed,” Sam told him hesitantly. “Until Bobby wakes up.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Don’t trust my work? Want to make sure I’m here to gank if he doesn’t?”

“It’s not that –” Sam started, before he realized the angel was teasing him. “I’d just feel better. And it’ll be easier to explain if you’re here.”

Sam looked over at Dean to see if he agreed, but his brother’s lips were tightly sealed, and he was watching Bobby intently, avoiding all eye contact with Sam or Gabriel. Sam didn’t know if he should be annoyed, or thankful that his brother was biting his tongue.

“If you’re not too busy,” Sam added lamely.

Gabriel huffed a small laugh, then plopped down on the bed beside Sam, close enough that Sam could feel his heat, but not quite touching.  “Yeah, I think I can do that,” the archangel said. “Just in case.”

 

…

 

They only had to wait a little over an hour. Gabriel had done a good job, because Bobby was awake and sitting up, as cheerful as could be expected, given the circumstances. More, actually, because Sam had expected no cheer at all.

“So, you saved my ass out there then?” Bobby was asking Gabriel gruffly. “Not sure how I feel about that, you being who you are.”

“Looks like,” Gabriel admitted. “Jury’s out if it was the right choice or not.”

 Sam was ready to scold both of them for being dicks, but then he saw Bobby’s nod. “Thanks, then.”

“Don’t mention it,” Gabriel told him. “Really.” But the Trickster was smiling, and Bobby had an amused look on his face.

 _If those two become buddies, we’re all fucked,_ Sam thought.

Apparently Dean had the same idea, because he interrupted. “Bobby, you feeling ok?”

“Better than I have in years,” Bobby assured him. He looked at Gabriel suspiciously. “You do anything else to me but heal my head?”

Gabriel shrugged, matching Bobby’s demeanor. “Pre-diabetes, early stage heart disease – figured I’d save you the hassle of it all while I was there.”

“Huh,” Bobby said, as if he didn’t know how to handle that.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be on my way,” Gabriel said, looking profoundly uncomfortable. Which was profoundly cute, in Sam’s opinion. “You need me again, Gigantor, you make sure to call me.”

That look – that bashful look, as if he didn’t want anyone to know he actually gave a damn, but he just couldn’t help himself. As if he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar – but that cookie jar was _saving a life_ just because Sam asked him to.

That look broke Sam’s resolve completely.

“Uh, can we talk?” he asked the archangel. “Alone?”

Gabriel shrugged casually, but his voice was uncertain when he said, “Sure. Whatever you want, kiddo.”

“Thanks,” Sam responded. He looked at Dean and Bobby. “I’ll be back soon,” he told them.

“Pray for me if you need your giraffe,” Gabriel told them, apparently recovered.

He snapped, and suddenly they were in the same living room as they had been in the last time he saw Gabriel. Sam sat on the extra-long couch again, but Gabriel stood over him. His expression was hard, closed off – as though he was bracing himself for something bad.

“Thanks,” Sam started, then paused, trying to collect his thoughts.

“That it, Sam?” Gabriel asked. “You couldn’t say that in front of your bro?”

“No, actually. There’s a lot more,” Sam told him. He took a breath, braced himself, and then let it all out: “I don’t really know what I’m doing here, Gabriel, but I thought a lot about the last time I saw you. I thought a hell of a lot about that kiss – probably too much.” He blushed and looked down. “And I’m not sure where this is going, but I’m pretty sure I want to figure it out. If you’re still interested, that is.”

He suddenly felt ridiculous, pouring his heart out when Gabriel was standing there, looming over him. “Could you please sit down?” He gestured to the seat beside him.

“Don’t think so Sam-a-lam,” Gabriel said. The Trickster began to pace. “I have to say, I’m a bit confused. Last time I was here, I told you that you could count on me, to call when you needed me. I thought we had a moment. Then I don’t hear from you for weeks, until your favorite old hunter is dying, and you ask for help. Now you’re telling me you’re interested in me?” He stopped pacing and looked down at Sam pointedly. “I’m sure you can tell where I’m going with this.”

“It’s not like that,” Sam told him calmly.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Then what is it like?”

“I needed time to think,” Sam explained. “We humans do that sometimes – call it a design flaw.” He stood up and walked toward the archangel slowly, until he was the one looming over Gabriel. “I thought it through, and I decided I wanted to take you up on your offer. Dick Roman just happened to have terrible timing.”

“That so?” Gabriel asked, looking up and down Sam, clearly at least still physically interested in him.

Sam could use that. He could certainly show Gabriel his interest physically. Everything else could come after that.

Sam leaned down to murmur into Gabriel’s ear, “That’s exactly so.”  He moved his head swiftly around, intent on sweeping Gabriel up in a kiss before he realized what he was doing.

Of course the archangel was far quicker than Sam, but he seemed content to let Sam take the lead and see where the hunter was going with this. And Sam certainly had a lot of places to go.

He pressed into the kiss, tasting the honey-sweet that lingered in the Trickster’s mouth even though he hadn’t had any sweets since Sam first prayed to him hours ago. He wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s backside, then lifted the Trickster up, guiding him to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist for support. He could feel Gabriel’s dick, hard and hot on his abs, and knew from Gabriel’s reverent touches that rubbing against the hard muscle was as much as turn-on for Gabriel as it was for Sam.

He turned them like that and brought them to the couch, where he laid Gabriel down and climbed over him.

“Think we can get a bed instead?” Sam asked.

Gabriel snapped, and they were suddenly in a huge bed, the comforter the same bright red color and soft texture as the couch had been.

Sam smiled. “That’s more like it.”

“You really want this, Winchester?” Gabriel asked, raking his hands through Sam’s hair. Sam leaned into the touch indulgently, humming his pleasure.

“Absolutely,” Sam said, before pulling Gabriel’s shirt off. He started kissing his way down Gabe’s torso and let himself just get caught up in the moment – it was so novel to be able to lose himself in someone else entirely, to just kiss and lick and _give_ and not have to worry about anything but the moment. He stopped to nibble at the archangel’s hipbone – getting a very satisfying buck of the hips and muffled moan in response – while he unzipped Gabriel’s jeans. He lifted himself up off the angel for a moment, putting all his weight on bent his arms in a way that he knew made his biceps flex attractively.

“You want me to keep going?” he asked, as if he could make the archangel do anything he didn’t want to.

“I’ll smite you if you stop,” Gabriel told him, loosening his hands from where they had been clenched in the comforter.

Sam smiled devilishly, then took his own shirt off, feeling way too overdressed. He took Gabriel’s hard cock in his hand, positioning it under his mouth. “If you insist,” he said.

He started to suck and lick, keeping his eyes open so he could see how he made Gabriel squirm. He got a little harder and ached a little more each time he saw the archangel really start to lose control. Gabriel always got it under wraps before he was a danger to Sam – though Sam was pretty sure he should probably close his eyes before Gabriel let loose any truly angelic parts of himself.

It had been ages – _years –_ since he had last done this. Not since college, when he had been free to explore, but before he had met Jess, had he hooked up with men. It was always easier with girls, particularly given life on the road: between explaining himself to Dean or dealing with dipshit homophobes at the kind of bars they frequented, he had kept his bisexuality quiet for a long time. But god had he missed it, the feel of strong muscles and hard lines beneath him, the heft of a cock in his mouth, or against his – he certainly wouldn’t mind having Gabriel in his bed more often.

He smiled around Gabe’s cock. Or him in Gabriel’s bed. Whatever.

“Keep that up, and this is going to be over quick,” Gabriel warned.

Sam lifted his head and smirked cheekily. “What? No archangelic super-powered refractory?” He dove back down, silently daring Gabriel to come in his mouth.

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve thought about this a lot haven’t you?”

Sam just winked at him as he hallowed his cheeks and _sucked._

And apparently that did it for the archangel, because suddenly Gabriel was arching up on the bed and coming hot and salty in Sam’s mouth. Sam tried to swallow it, but it had been so long since he had last done this, he couldn’t quite handle it. Instead, he pulled off, and let that last few spurts spray all over his chest and neck.

 _That_ must have done something for the archangel, because Sam found himself flipped on his back by angelic strength, Gabriel looking down at him with pupils so dilated Sam could barely see their hazel halos. He looked down at Sam, his expression downright possessive.

Apparently, that was a turn-on for Sam, too.

Sam reached up to pull Gabriel down for hard, hot kiss, but the archangel grabbed his wrists and pinned him against the bed. It wasn’t often that Sam found a lover stronger than him – especially not one with such an unassuming size – and Sam found he liked it. He really liked it, though he struggled against the archangel playfully.

“My turn,” Gabriel told him with a wolfish smile. “Stay,” he said, releasing Sam’s wrists.

When he did, Gabriel rewarded him with a smothering hard, desperate kiss.

Then Gabriel sat up, taking his time to look over Sam. He thoughtfully played with the cum still on Sam’s chest, spreading it over his pectorals in random patterns, as it transfixed. He had positioned him so that Sam’s cock – still trapped in his jeans – was resting just under Gabriel’s ass, and he teased him every now and again with a suggestive rock of his hips.

Despite his teasing before, Sam was surprised to see that Gabriel was _already_ hard again.

“What are you up for, Sam?” Gabriel asked after a few minutes of exploring.

“Anything,” Sam breathed.

“Don’t tell me that,” Gabriel warned, his eyes flashing green. “Never tell that to a pagan god.”

“You’re an angel, too,” Sam reminded him.

“And you just gave me consent,” Gabriel shot back with a wink. He ran his hands down Sam’s torso contemplatively. “I really want to fuck you right now,” he confessed. “But if you’re not ready for that –”

“Do it,” Sam interrupted, voice hoarse and low with need. “Please.”

Gabriel’s smile was blinding. He snapped, and a small tray with a bottle of lube and a couple of condoms appeared.

He took Sam’s jeans off the old fashioned way, though, scattering kisses down each leg as he pulled them off, then again with Sam’s boxers.

“You’re sure?” Gabriel asked again, making eye contact with Sam as he lifted one leg to his shoulder and pushed the other out, giving him plenty of access.

“Just fucking do it already,” Sam urged.

Gabriel laughed, then started to prep him with one slick, lubed finger.

“You’re so pretty like that, Sam,” the Trickster crooned as he crooked a finger to find just the right spot inside of him. “All laid out for me. Your hands are still just where I put them, aren’t they? So good.”

Sam groaned in response, lost to the feel of Gabriel’s finger inside him, and the soft cadence of that wicked mouth.

“Don’t move them yet – I like them like this. Maybe next time we’ll play with handcuffs?” Gabriel thought about it as he added a second finger. “Maybe not – I like the idea of you choosing to stay there. So much more erotic, don’t you think?”

“Gabriel,” Sam moaned, pressing back against the archangel’s hands. It had been years – a decade, almost – since anyone had done this to him but himself. “More, please.”

“Are you ready for a third?” Gabriel asked teasingly. He looked down to watch his fingers moving in Sam as he scissored the two, stretching him further. “I think we should take it slower. I love seeing you squirm there, do hot and desperate for me.” He lazily reached up with his other hand and ran his fingers over Sam’s cock. Light as the touch had been, it was the first time Sam had been touched, and he almost came from that alone.

“Hmmm, not yet,” Gabriel said, withdrawing his hand but adding a third finger inside Sam – _finally_. “I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel it want to ride it out until I come, too.” He looked up, making eye contact again. “You like that idea? You want me to come inside you, as you come all over me, Sam?”

Sam decided he really liked it when Gabriel said his name. He moaned his agreement, his excitement – he put everything he was feeling into the sound, because right now it felt like the only sound he could make.

“I didn’t hear a ‘yes,’” the Trickster teased, using his free hand to roll on a condom and lube himself up.

“Yes,” Sam managed to bite out, not fully in control of his voice, or anything right now for that matter. “Please.”

Gabriel smiled at him, then pulled all his fingers out of Sam, leaving him empty and starved for me. He pulled Sam’s other leg over his shoulder as he stared into Sam’s eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about this for _years_ , Sam,” Gabriel confessed. “The first time I saw you I wondered what it would be like to climb you like a tree.”

“How are you still speaking in sentences?” Sam asked desperately. “Fuck me. Please.”

Gabriel chuckled, but obliged. He pushed into Sam in one slow movement. “Okay?”

“Move,” Sam demanded.

“As you wish,” Gabriel said, and then he began to thrust into Sam in steady, controlled movements. It was worth the wait, having the archangel inside him like this – the feeling didn’t stop with skin on skin. Sam could feel his _grace_ tingling inside him, catching on every one of Sam’s erogenous zones at once, and lighting his whole body on fire. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before – better than any sex he had ever had – and he was afraid he would be ruined for mere mortals after this.

“You can touch yourself, Sam,” Gabriel purred, looking down at him possessively again. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

Sam was eager to listen. He reached down and started jerking himself off in time to Gabriel’s thrusts.

Of course it didn’t last. There was no way it could have.

As soon as he started to come, bucking against Gabriel and shooting all over him, Gabriel lost control. The archangel’s movements became faster, riding out Sam’s orgasm, and then erratic as he came for the second time inside him.

Gabriel pulled out and collapsed on him. Sam, unable to do much of anything else, just wrapped his arms around the Trickster as they trembled through their aftershocks together.

“Gotta say, that was a pleasant surprise,” Gabriel said after a long silence. He snapped lazily, and Sam felt instantly clean of dried sweat and dried cum. Perks of having an angelic lover, Sam realized.

“Glad I could brighten your day,” Sam teased.

“Planning on any other surprises?” Gabriel asked, looking up at Sam. His eyes were closed off, unreadable. Sam realized that he expecting Sam to tell him no, that this was just the adrenaline of almost losing his mentor, or something similar.

“As often as possible,” Sam told him, lifting one hand to trace the angel’s jawline. “I told you, I don’t know what I’m doing here – hell, the life I lead, I never know if I’m going to make it to tomorrow, never mind into a relationship. But I want to give this a chance, if you still do.”

“After that? You’ll have to fight to get rid of me, Winchester,” Gabriel told him.

Sam smiled stupidly.  “Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda the best,” Gabriel agreed. “Get some sleep. I’ll send Deano a note and tell him you’ve been tied up.”

“Maybe later,” Sam said, already half asleep. “Too tired for bondage now.”

Gabriel laughed. “Yeah, I’m definitely keeping you around.”

They had a long road in front of them with the Leviathans out there, but Sam thought maybe they could ask Gabriel to help in earnest from now on. After all, Gabe had all the answers on the apocalypse, maybe he could help with this, too.

And if not? Oh well. They’d figure it out together.

Sam’s last conscious thought before sleep took him was wonder at how incredibly happy that idea made him.

**Author's Note:**

> So, for anyone who reads my other stuff, this is in the same vein as From the Void, only (a) two seasons earlier, (b) with much less lore, and (c) a hell of a lot fluffier. Oh, and I started this one way back in 2012 and just thought I'd post it now. I apologize if I hit any of the same notes...but on the other hand, if you like this and you're not reading From the Void, you might want to give it a shot. ;)


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